There’s nowhere like home
Nine year-old Kimberley Denny* remembers how she and her mother became homeless, forcing them both to live in a hostel.
| When I see homeless people I can’t look at them, because I think about my own experience and I just want to cry. |
I remember that I only managed to smile about five times in one year. I was very angry. I had every reason to feel this way. I was just seven-years-old and homeless!
When mum and I arrived at the first hostel we stayed at, I remember thinking this was not home. It was a big dirty place with blocked toilets, and filthy carpets littered with rotten sweets. We were treated like neglected animals; simply ignored. I felt like I wanted to punch someone really hard in the face. I kept asking myself why are we being treated so badly? It was just bad timing. The landlord had increased the rent on our flat and my mum's teaching salary wasn't enough to afford the rent.
She wasn't to blame for our homelessness, but I only had one person to direct my anger at…sadly it was my mum. Well, I couldn't take it out on my dad, because my parents split up when my mum was pregnant with me. I have never seen him and I probably never will.
At school I hid my anger, but dreaded when the teacher said: "It's time to pack up your things and get your coats." It was home time but I had no home to go to. I was going back to a cramped room I shared with my mum, which used to be a prison cell for women. When my teacher found out about my situation I was given a 'kindness award' for keeping my emotions inside, and not taking them out on anyone of my school friends. I was presented with this award in front of all the children in the school. I felt very proud of myself, I was also so nervous I almost fainted! The other children in the playground told me they felt sorry for me. I felt happy, safe and secure at school.
Back at the hostel I became frightened to leave the building even with my mum. At night, I was afraid that someone would break into our room - it wasn't that secure. There were regular break-ins and a lot of families staying there had things stolen. My imagination created monsters that would break in; they were the intruders I feared the most. I would also have nightmares about been taken away from my mum, but sometimes in those dreams I would get rescued by a lioness. I also dreamt of being a princess and having everything I ever wanted.
Although my situation was bad, I tried to make my time in the hostel fun. I had two good friends, but I didn't let them get too close to me just in case I took my anger out on them.
When mum and I got a new home, I was the happiest girl in the world. I started smiling again. I felt great. Having a place to call home, with my own bedroom, made me feel like celebrating - and that's just what I did with my school friends. My mum is now returning to teaching and we have a permanent home.
Some children at school tried to blame me for having been homeless. I asked them why are they blaming me now? I'm no longer homeless. I told them that was the past.
But I haven't totally forgotten about it…it was a part of my life, and when I see homeless people I can't look at them, because I think about my own experience and I just want to cry. I think where are these people going to end up?
*Names have been changed
About the team
This article was produced by Natasha Lytton, 13, and Annabel Mcleod and Xochitl Rodriguez, 15. It was published in Community Care magazine.
